


Miscellaneous Teachers

by Dr_Cat



Category: Jane and the Dragon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-03
Updated: 2020-08-03
Packaged: 2021-03-05 18:55:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,689
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25680193
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dr_Cat/pseuds/Dr_Cat
Summary: Sometimes, the things we learn don't come from the likeliest places and things we value from places we didn't expect.
Comments: 11
Kudos: 11





	Miscellaneous Teachers

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters to Jane and the Dragon. They are copyrighted to Martin Baynton and Weta Workshop.

_Clomp._ The last barrel of salt was set respectfully in its place amongst the other thirty or so kegs of seasoning in the storeroom. With a sigh of relief, the young man responsible for the cargo's safe transport from ship to cart to shed wiped the sweat off his brow onto his sleeve. The gesture was futile as the hot sun and his steady exertion caused the beads of moisture to reappear on his forehead. He shut the wooden doors on the day's task, grudgingly aware that tomorrow would bring more chores of its kind. Even so, it was now midday and, with a little luck, he might receive a break from this grueling work if the obligation of his other duties pleased his patriarch.

"Are we finished here, father?" he asked tentatively, trying to embody the very spirit of submission itself. The more he could appeal to his father's goodwill the better his chances of leaving were. A rather stout man with a dark beard and even darker eyes regarded the young man from his shaded spot underneath the shop's landing. He had been busy counting out to himself just how much money he could squeeze from this latest shipment when his son's question interrupted his train of thought.

"A merchant's work is never done, boy," he replied indifferently. The man watched the flicker of disappointment pass through his son's features and chose to ignore it. He knew what the young man wanted and he also knew there was nothing left for the boy to do now anyway.

"And neither is a squire's. See to it that you're not late in getting there, Gunther."

"Yes, father," the youth replied, trying to hide the happiness in his voice as he turned in the direction of the castle.

"Put the cart away before you leave," the merchant added to which his son responded with an about-face and compliance to the task. The father smirked to himself as he listened to the boy stowing the wagon away, knowing the castle would foot the bill for his son's hard-earned appetite. The man soon frowned, however, once he thought about the other things the castle imparted to his child. It was definitely not a place he wanted the lad to spend too much time at.

"And mind you be back by sundown."

With that last command acknowledged, Gunther took off like an arrow towards the fortress; each step taking him further from his father's presence and closer to his heart's dreams. Training to be a future knight to the king gave him a sense of significance that being a pack mule for his father took away, thus, even though it was hot and he was tired and hungry, there was no other place he'd rather be than walking up to the castle gates ready for another day of hard . . . exhausting . . . drills and lessons. Well, maybe he would rather be sitting up under a shady tree with a breeze, drinking a large cup of water while enjoying a nice plate of good food. Oh, and he would already be a knight who owned his father's business with people singing his praises . . . but, who wouldn't, he told himself.

He quickened his stride once he passed under the chief gateway, trying to make an undetected approach to the main entry. The two enormous doors were hardly used for daily castle life, only being utilized for grand processions and welcoming guests for entertaining, thus, for Gunther, they were ideal for slipping in unobserved. In fact, it was his custom to sneak through parts of the castle, hoping to avoid being seen by Sir Ivon or worse, Sir Theodore. It wasn't that he didn't like the company of the two senior knights, quite the opposite; he tried everything in his power to be regarded by the gentlemen, but he didn't relish disciplinary action which was sure to come due to his tardiness; a typical occurrence, unfortunately.

His destination today would be to the kitchen where he knew a bowl or plate of food would be waiting for him in a wooden cupboard, exactly where the cook, Pepper, left it. It was an odd place to find one's midday meal and odder still was the reason for it. Even over all the years of his hard work and improvement, Gunther still had his shortcomings. Self-importance seemed to outshine the rest. The adamant need to present himself as better than everyone else even bled over into his eating habits.

When he first began visiting the castle, even before he started his knight's training, he had shunned eating what he saw as simple foods and bragged about eating what kings did. He thought if he ate a nobleman's dinner it would give off the notion that he too was noble even though he carried the Breech name. Unfortunately, when a royal menu called for dark-colored fungi and tough, gamey waterfowl, better known as truffles and swan, he found himself in an embarrassing predicament. He had already boasted about his expensive tastes and insulted the more hardy cuisine. How could he refuse what he said he liked and ask for seconds on something he said he didn't? He tried very hard to cover this blunder, but despite his efforts, his plight didn't go unnoticed by the cook herself.

Pepper had noticed his longing stares at the other's heaping plates as they passed or the way he would wolf down a bowl of soup as if it was his last meal when he thought no one was looking. Even though she didn't like his remarks on her 'simple' meals, her heart would not allow for someone in her charge to go hungry. Hence, much to Gunther's surprise, she called him in one day and without a word pointed to an open cupboard that had a decent plate of food in it. Now, he was well versed in the art of indirect communication and understood her meaning well enough but as to her motives for doing so, he was unfamiliar with.

He still didn't know why Pepper saved face for him then or why she continued to now, but whatever the reason he was grateful for it. So, with a smile, he reached the passage leading from the ballroom to the kitchen. He crept through, stopping just before the archway going in so he could listen for anyone who may be in the room. He could hear the distant sound of laughter coming down from the dining area outside. It appeared the castle staff were still finishing their meals and considering he couldn't hear any hustle or bustle in the kitchen, Pepper must have joined them.

"Champion," he whispered happily. For one, he wasn't as late as he thought and two, he could eat in peace. Entering the kitchen, he headed straight for the cupboard. His eyes took in the sight of food greedily and the delightful smell prompted his stomach to growl. Without a moment's hesitation, he bit into the bread and began devouring the main course right on the spot, leaning on the cabinet in support of his sore muscles. Upon satisfying his belly, he looked around for a cup so he could grab a quick drink before going out to the practice yard to find his mentor, Sir Ivon.

After downing a goblet of water and successfully exiting the kitchen without detection, he approached the stables leading to the yard. His only wish for the day had been that his studies would lean more to the sit back and go over battle tactics sort than the run-through several combat drills sort, but that desire fluttered away as he neared the bailey. The layout of ropes, nets, hurdles and dummies in a start to finish manner indicated one dreaded thing; an obstacle course.

"Oh, bat bladders," he hissed, tempted to head back to the main gate. No one had seen him yet and he could always come up with an excuse or reason why he hadn't shown up that day. He turned and started to tiptoe back.

"Squire Gunther, you're just in time for agility training," a seasoned voice stated from behind him. It took everything in his power not to screech as he realized it was Sir Theodore. He composed himself quickly and whirled around to face the Captain of the King's Guard with a well-rehearsed smile; no chance of leaving now.

"Ah, Sir Theodore. Yes, well, this is a fine obstacle training course, one I'm sure will test our abilities to its limits," he stated, catching sight of Sir Ivon and the kingdom's other squire, his rival.

"Indeed it will," Sir Theodore responded, noticing the lad's broken eye contact with him. The older man turned his head slightly just in time to see the exchange of sour looks between the two apprentice knights.

"Then I am ready to test the skills I've acquired under the excellent teaching of both Sir Ivon and yourself, sir. Maybe I can even help show my fellow knight in training a thing or two," Gunther stated loudly, hoping to spark a spirit of competition from the other squire. He knew it really wasn't necessary, but he couldn't help himself; he thrived on their rivalry. Regardless of the fact that only moments ago he had wanted to leave, now, he would never dream of doing such a thing; not in front of her. Either way, the disguised taunt worked as he received a glare back from the girl.

"Splendid. So I take it you're prepared to go first," Sir Theodore said as more of a statement than a question.

"Absolutely . . . wait, first, sir?" Gunther piped up snapping his attention back to the knight. Even though he was ambitious to best his rival at the task, he knew full well first on a brand new obstacle course would be humiliatingly difficult. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see his colleague hide a snicker behind her hand.

"Yes. If I'm not mistaken, young squire, this was an area in which you just now claimed prowess in and since it was Jane who was on time, helping to set up the course, it's only reasonable to ask you to start us off," Sir Theodore smiled, wholly aware of Gunther's dismay as it played out on the young man's face. Agility was a capacity Gunther had actually requested practice in just two days ago. It seemed needless flattery and boasting were two things sure to get one into trouble and Gunther was experiencing this now.

"Yes, Gunther, by all means, show me a thing or two," Jane voiced with mock interest.

The lad swallowed hard realizing this obstacle course had been set up specifically for him and he just misguidedly disregarded all of it. He looked to the ground in embarrassment before looking back up to his mentor with a weak nod. Theodore also nodded and they walked over to where Jane and Sir Ivon stood.

"You can stand over there, lass," Sir Ivon instructed, pointing to the far wall where a rather large, green reptile rested atop of. Jane bowed respectfully, giving her rival a small smirk before heading over to her closest companion, Dragon.

"This should be fun to watch," the reptile chuckled as he looked on with Jane.

"Yes, quite," she said back with a smug smile. For her, a biscuit weevil like Gunther deserved this for being such the arrogant and insufferable person he was. It only took two minutes for her lead-footed rival to trip over the barrel rims set before him and even less time for her distinctive laugh. Gunther growled. He got back up and was able to get to the first hurdle of ropes, where he successfully fell again. Jane's laughter sounded.

How he loathed her, and yet he was trying desperately to earn her admiration, albeit subconsciously. It was confusing. If there was one person in the world that he could respect one moment for their honesty and spirit but then not able to stand the next for that same integrity, they would be nothing compared to the irritating problem that was Jane.

"Jane, I believe you could offer some assistance to your fellow squire as that is the purpose of this exercise," Sir Theodore said graciously as he looked down to his apprentice.

"Yes, of course, Sir Theodore," Jane said with a quick nod before running towards the training course with a determined fire in her eyes. This was her element. Where Gunther had strength and a surprising amount of endurance when he put his mind to it, Jane had swiftness and agility on her side. It also helped that she had set the course and practiced a bit before Gunther's arrival. Her feet flew through the barrel rims like an expert dancer and her smaller frame weaved in between ropes and rods while gliding over hurdles. A smirk played across her lips as she reached the end of the obstacles and turned to face her rival.

"You did very well, Jane," Sir Theodore's voice carried across the courtyard. Jane gave a soft nod in his direction.

"Thank you, Sir Theodore," she replied in a breath before turning to Gunther once more. Her smile faded as she noticed how truly discouraged and humiliated the boy appeared. Dragon was certainly not helping as the snide remarks and sarcastic quips seemed to be endless today. Maybe it was the fact that she and Gunther had been getting along a little better lately or that she was just a compassionate sort, to begin with, but, for whatever reason, she felt empathetic towards her 'pig-headed' rival.

She stepped off the course and jogged back over to where he was, offering him her hand. Gunther gave her a withering glare but took her hand as his back was still sore from lifting crates of salt all that morning. She helped lift him up, watching as he brushed himself off with his other hand. When she released him, the red and inflamed scratches on his palms and knuckles didn't go unnoticed.

"Are you alright, Gunther?" she asked with genuine concern. The raven-haired teenager's eyes shot up to meet hers in surprise. He didn't know how to respond to the empathy in her voice, so he wouldn't. With another glare, he took an unconscious step back.

"Of course, I'm alright. I'm just getting warmed up," he said quickly. He noticed her eyes dart down to his swollen hands and immediately threw them to his sides. He turned and stalked back to the front of the track to give it another go. After all, the two senior knights were still watching and he had his dignity and self-worth to protect. He was sizing up the course again, running through it in his mind, and trying to ignore the vacant part of his soul again. He was so concentrated on that task that he hadn't even heard Jane come up next to him until she spoke.

"Well, are we going to stand here all day or are we going to go for it," she said with no malice in her voice. She smiled at him with her usual confidence, which, under most circumstances, irritated the fire out of him, but today there was some understanding and it actually spurred him to take another shot; fill that empty hole. She saw the briefest touch of warmth in his grey eyes before he set them forward again.

"Only if you don't cry too much when I beat you!" he shouted as he took off.

"Ah, no fair cheating," Dragon voiced from his perch on the wall. Jane followed after Gunther and the two made quite the training session as they covered the course several times. An eventual draw was worked out by Sir Theodore, however, as he believed the equipment could no longer handle the competitive spirit of the two squires.

"Maybe next time we'll have a proper winner," Sir Ivon stated as he came up next to the youngsters. Sir Theodore nodded as Dragon chose this moment to try and be closer to the action. He landed/crashed down next to them toppling some of the higher towers on the course to a crooked angle.

"Oops," he voiced sheepishly as he bent his large head down to where Jane stood. The red-headed girl sighed but gave the large reptile a gentle pat on the snout.

"Don't know your own strength, right?" she said with a small laugh.

"Well, it needs to come down anyway. Can't have all this blocking you short-lives' other activities, aye?" he said lifting up and trying to help by grabbing the unstable structures and pulling it straight again.

"Right. As soon as we're done putting things away and if Sir Theodore gives me permission maybe we can go on patrol," Jane stated as she bent down to pick up one of the rims.

"Actually, Jane, since you spent this morning helping us set up the obstacle course I would think it only fitting that Gunther helps us to take it down," Sir Theodore stated. The young man wasn't happy to hear this, but he understood the fairness in the reasoning.

"Yes, Jane, go and enjoy a nice outing with your frog there," he said snidely. Jane looked heavenward but decided not to dignify the insult with a response and instead climbed up on Dragon's offered neck. She gave a short wave as the large reptile flapped his powerful wings and took off in a gust of wind. Gunther quietly sighed, resigning himself to the task of more heavy lifting and running back and forth. Surprisingly, it hadn't taken long for the obstacle course to come down or be cleared from the courtyard, but it also took no time for his already sore muscles to start protesting. On his way to restoring the wooden planks to the stables, he spotted Smithy, the castle's young blacksmith, tending to one of the mares located at the other end.

Smithy was the same age as Gunther, but the two boys couldn't share a more different set of character traits. Where Gunther was ambitious and prideful, Smithy was content and humble. Neither seemed to understand the other, but they didn't clash often either. Granted, Smithy never seemed to quarrel with anyone. Their relationship could be best described as distant associates. They worked together if they had to, but didn't go out of each other's way to do so.

Truth be told, Gunther was actually a little scared of Smithy sometimes. He would never admit that of course and he still saw himself as above the stable hand, but those piercing blue eyes did evoke a certain level of respect. Thus, when Smithy looked up from brushing the horse's mane to see who it was, Gunther looked away, pretending to pay no mind. All he needed to do was get the wood up onto the work shelf and leave; quite simple. But there was one problem. The pain that had started in his back and worked its way through his legs and shoulders was now making his arms feel like lead. He mustered his remaining strength and heaved the woodpile as high as he could get it, which was just over his head, but gravity fought back hard and his arms buckled.

He let out a cry of mixed agony and surprise as he knew the weight of six planks was about to crash into his chest. He screwed his eyes shut instinctively, bracing for the pain, but it never came. Instead, another set of arms both propped up the wood and his fatigued arms. He looked over to see Smithy standing right there, helping him share the load. Together they both hoisted the wooden planks up on the platform and stepped back. Smithy then, without a word, walked away, back to his task of tending to the horses. Gunther stood, amazed both at how quickly the blacksmith had moved and how humbly he walked away. In earlier days, the squire would have thought little of the act and continued on without so much as an acknowledgment to the help, but now . . .

"Thank you," he said lowly, almost inaudible, but heard. Smithy stopped, filling the hayloft with the echo of his boots. The blonde boy turned his head slightly in the direction of the knight to be and gave a small smile and nod, before turning to head back to the mare. Gunther didn't know exactly why, but he found himself smiling as well when he turned to head back out to the main courtyard. He was so brightened by his own benevolence that he hadn't noticed the dark-haired gardener pushing a wheelbarrow or the fact that he was going to run into it.

"Gunther!" the boy called out in warning, but it was too late. Gunther tripped over the garden tool and landed on his backside in a most ungraceful way.

"Rake! Why can't you watch where you're going?!" Gunther seethed as he stood up quickly and brushed himself off. The anger boiling within him didn't feel like his own. In reality, he knew the incident was his fault, considering he was the one not being watchful, but he didn't want to admit the blunder or the embarrassment that went with it. Rake, on the other hand, looked genuinely apologetic.

"I'm sorry, Gunther. I was just trying to get this compost over to the garden before it dries out too much. There's nothing better than fresh manure for vegetables, you know. I guess I was in such a hurry I didn't see you in time," Rake stammered. Gunther wrinkled his nose at the smell and waved off both the odor and apology; the tone of the gardener's voice warding off any further hostility.

"It's fine, Rake. Just get that . . . stuff out of here," he sighed and the skinny young man had no trouble complying with the request. As Rake trotted off with the compost, Gunther realized that he had been extremely forgiving, for him anyway. He recalled the harshness of his father concerning incidents like this; all the yelling and belittling that would take place. Gunther had borne that same unkindness first hand and usually felt he had the right to dish it out to others, but he didn't want to be his father. No, he didn't. If anything, he wanted his father to be more like Sir Theodore or even Sir Ivon because, in truth, Gunther wanted to be more like them.

Gunther would have loved to live at the castle-like Jane, Rake, Pepper, Smithy and even Jester did. In a dream of his, they would accept him full-heartily and he would be honored and respected because he was noble and kind. But the reality was, Breech was the stamp on his life and there was nothing honorable or respectable about that. So, despite the hard training and strenuous studying, he would rather spend all his time here doing whatever it was the castle needed than return _home_. However, at the same time, his father was the reason he had what he had. He knew the others really didn't care for him and that the only reason he was allowed to be a squire was because of the financial influence his father put forward.

But then, he remembered today; Pepper's secret meals, Jane's attempts, albeit small, at befriending him, Smithy's helpfulness and Rake's humility. He remembered past days, especially Sir Theodore's words; _"My compliments young man. Integrity is a banner we must each carry every day."_

Jane had given him the honor of carrying the banner and he had his own integrity. He didn't have to be his father's son. He didn't have to carry the sins and burdens of the Breech name, but bring the honor and respect he wanted. He could be Sir Gunther, a knight to the king who lived by a moral code that made him someone his . . . his mother could be proud of.

Soon the sun was low in the sky and chores at the castle were drawing to a close. Dinner was served and nightly rounds were made. Gunther even offered to stay a little later than usual, just to make sure the gate was secure. Sir Ivon didn't see a problem with that and allowed the lad to stay as long as he needed to. The red-haired man knew that his young apprentice wasn't exactly well taken care of at home, so if he wanted to stand guard a little longer, what was the harm. Besides, it gave him some free time as well.

However, the time came for Gunther to return to the village; back to his residence with his father; nothing he considered good. As he left and made his way back to the merchant's area he noticed a young girl walking past his father's storefront. More of a street urchin really, but he recognized her as one of the housekeepers at the local tavern. She was eying the fruit baskets and vegetable cart his father locked up at night. Her physique proved she wasn't used to getting regular meals. He stopped, wondering if she was going to steal anything. He watched as she bowed her head and began walking away from the store. Compassion welled up within him and before he could stop it . . .

"Miss, wait," he called out to her as he walked over to the stand. She looked up at him and stopped about ten feet away.

"I'm sorry, sir, I didn't take anything. I swear," she said desperately. Gunther actually felt his heart lurch. 'I know that' he said to himself, even though he thought she was going to.

"No, miss, my father owns this shop and I just thought maybe you would like something," Gunther said as he pulled out the baskets he knew had fruit and bread.

"I . . . I can't pay, sir. I'm sorry to have bothered you," she replied.

"I know. I'm asking if you want some at no charge," he whispered. She came closer, almost like a scared animal wondering if it was a trap or not. Once she was close enough to accept it Gunther stretched the whole basket out. Her eyes widened in surprise.

"I can't . . ." she hesitated, knowing enough about the merchant to know he was a mean and harsh man. This was that man's son.

"I only ask you don't speak of this to anyone, especially my father. Here," he insisted. She carefully took the offering with a meek smile.

"Thank you. Thank you so much," she said in the same low tone he was using. He gave a small nod and beckoned her to get out of there quickly, looking around to see if anyone else was around; something he should have thought about earlier. Luckily, by this time the village was quiet and most people were indoors. The girl hurried away, excited about the meal she would be able to provide her family since her wages weren't much today and she was unable to take leftovers from the tavern.

Gunther smiled as he turned to head inside his own dwelling. He knew his father would be upset about the loss, but then again, what his father didn't know wouldn't hurt him. What he didn't notice was the candle going out in the upstairs window. His father had watched the young man's kind actions with a scowl.

The boy would have to pay for those items one way or another; possibly double duty in both hauling and inventorying the sugar tomorrow. Either way, he was still disappointed by his son's lack of shrewdness. Obviously, the boy was learning far too much from the Knight's code rather than his code. Yes, he agreed with his earlier assumption; he definitely didn't want Gunther spending too much time at the castle.

" _The soul who sins shall die. The son shall not bear the guilt of the father, nor the father bear the guilt of the son. The righteousness of the righteous shall be upon himself, and the wickedness of the wicked shall be upon himself." - Ezekiel 18:20_


End file.
